Fate
by SylverSpyder
Summary: It is the fate of all Rider's, it seems, to be spies. Adventure is in their blood. Will have some K-Unit and some Sab.
1. Chapter 1

I don't own Alex Rider. That is illegal and would be known as slavery. I don't own the series, I don't own the movie, and this is a work of fiction. That's why it's called FAN FICTION. Enjoy!

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><p>Dappled with golden rays of sunlight, the boy's soft blond hair shifted as the wind brushed him like a caress. He was seventeen now, the profile silhouetted against the blue sky paned into harder, more defined lines. A strong jaw jutting up towards the open air, seemingly in defiance, long lashes, and a strong nose. Sharp cheekbones caught the light, highlighted with the sun's bright glow. Beneath them, the hollows of his cheeks were more defined and deep, the face gaunt and thoughtful. Beneath the thick, gold lashes, the brown eyes were dark and series, older than the face they belonged to, contemplative. The lips, shadowed beneath the nose and the features hard as a Greek statue, turned up in an elusive smile.<p>

"Alex," A worried voice hissed from far below the boy, who was perched in the topmost branch of the old oak, his feet dangling into thin air.

The boy just continued to smile, his tanned skin lustrous in the afternoon light as heat shimmered down in waves from the high set sun that outlined his form. His lithe muscles wiry against his recently growing frame were defined in a way that gave him a predatory look.

"Alex," the voice hissed again, the tone mildly disapproving.

Alex Rider smirked down at Sabina Pleasure, watching her full lips turn down in disapproval, her face growing blotchy with frustration as the wind blew a stray strand of midnight colored hair into her face. She stamped a foot as she grew tired of waiting for him.

"Dammit, Alex! Get out of the tree! I'm ready to go to my senior prom and you are not taking me dressed like that!" Glancing up at him, she couldn't help but admire how well the t-shirt showed off his muscle structure. Her fingers itched for a pencil and a sketch book. She could almost feel the paper sliding under her fingers as the pencil darted over the page. She could imagine his form, just like it was now, perched above the world with all of its troubles, emerging onto the paper, permanently recording his elusive smile and that look he gave her, so free. He was like a wild animal in its natural element...

She shook her head to clear it of such thoughts, a smile struggling to emerge from behind her facade of frustration.

It had been Alex that taught her to draw. He saw the world so differently. Black, white, and grey, the tones would grow from pointless smudges into art. That art could be so expressive.

Looking at one of his pictures, she could see into Alex's head, understand her enigmatic friend much better. When he had first begun drawing, when he came to live with them in San Francisco, the drawings accumulated everywhere, dark, turmoil-filled images of a red-haired woman whose hair became blood and whose eye sockets were dark, empty, dead. Gradually, his art changed, and so did he. He learned to smile again, to laugh. He learned not to jump and shy away from touch. He changed, and that was when Sabina Pleasure had begun to fall in love with Alex Rider.

It was the times when she had had a bad day, when she forgot an assignment, and her dark hair flew everywhere, when her Dad's leg was having issues again, and her grades slipped... It was those days when the boy who had been through so much, whose life had been full of so much pain, comforted her as if her problems were the most important thing in the world to him. It was those days that made her fall in love with him.

It was the days when he woke up screaming, sweaty, pain in his every movement, and he ignored it all to reassure her that nothing was wrong, that he knew he'd be moments when he lied to her, those were what made her fall in love with him.

It was something gradual, not just physical. It was the way he was never rude to her parents, the way he didn't always raise his hand although he knew the answer, the way he opened the door when her hands were full. It was the moment she looked at her window to see him standing, palms outstretched and face upturned, as rain ran over him, soaking him.

It started when he held her hand as they crossed the street, the cars blurring past and engines emitting throaty growls. It was his laughter when they reached the other side, and standing outside the grocery store, hearing the rise and fall of a soft waltz drift from the PA system, how he still held her hand is his calloused one. It was how he grinned as he pulled her towards him, bodies flush and aligned, and began to dance. It started as they waltzed on the street outside the supermarket, the burning sun pounding down upon their backs. How he spun her and bowed, his nose crinkling as he laughed. Watching, sh could imagine the ball room, imagine the smooth wood of the dance floor replacing the rocky asphalt. It was how they ran inside the supermarket at the sound of the car horn, cold air bursting through the open doors and driving away the summer heat.

It was the moments when he couldn't hide what he was feeling and he'd run outside, returning hours later with bruised knuckles and a haunted look in his eyes. Guilt.

He was so much more than simple. And slowly she had fallen in love with that.

She had fallen in love with the man the boy had become.

Little did she imagine as she watched him now, slipping down through the branches toward her, exactly what falling in love with a Rider entailed. Eyes sparkling with thoughts of the night ahead, she never considered the blood that was running through Alex's veins. Blood that had been spilled too many times to count in the past. The blood of a spy.

And not even Alex Rider can escape destiny. Unbeknownst to him the hand that guides us all was leading them both in a different direction, sending them hurtling straight back into the life Alex had struggled to escape from.

_Little human, don't fight me. You play the game so very well I can't kill you yet. No, not yet. You are too much fun, boy. Too much fun._


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own Alex Rider. That is illegal and would be known as slavery. I don't own the series, I don't own the movie, and this is a work of fiction. That's why it's called FAN FICTION. Enjoy!

p.s. It might seem OC at points, but consider the time that has passed as well as the events that have taken place.

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><p>Time slipped through her fingers as sand through an hourglass, heated whispers, breaths of movement, sound, life, brushed her cool cheek.<p>

A soft lullaby called to her, pulling her away from the tingling fingertips, slick, bloody concrete. Ropes pulled as she strained against them; away, away.

There was a hand in hers and then it was gone. Ripped away, away. The words of the song called. Displeasure roared inside her as she searched, hands limp and aching, yet alive and grasping. Where was it?

Where was _He?_

Sabina Pleasure was torn back to reality, the lullaby retreating into the distance.

Her hand was empty.

Her heart was afraid.

Its melody had been replaced by the pounding of blood in her ears.

_Away, away._

Bitter salt stung her cheeks and the taste of copper slid down her throat.

_Away, away._

Vivid blue eyes opened to darkness. Darkness, silence, blood, choked her.

The coughing and hacking that resulted drew a sharp contrast to the utter solitude of the desolate night that shrouded Sabina's vision. Her ears were relieved by the sound, her headache exacerbated.

As something teased the far-reaches of her mind, Sabina struggled to stifle her outburst, find her breath and the elusive truth that taunted her. It was as though she had lost something. Someone.

"Alex!"

The name was a moan, a cry jostled and lost as the crowd of memories returned, searing into the twisting, forming idea that haunted Sabina.

The hand in hers.

Alex.

The tree, his laughter ringing in her ears.

Alex.

The blood that clung to her lips and pooled on the cool concrete.

Alex.

The only thing that came to her calls as she twisted and fought against reality's harsh pull was the heavy panting of her own breath.

She settled into silence as panicked outcries reduced to whimpers.

A swift and sickening thought fed her despair.

It was happening again.

This time it would be her fault.

Someone was bringing Alex ..._strong jaw jutting up towards the open air, seemingly in defiance, long lashes, and a strong nose. Sharp cheekbones, the hollows of his cheeks defined and deep, face thoughtful..._ back into the game with Sabina as their pawn.

Black hair stiff with congealed blood had sealed itself to her neck, a sudden incessant irritation.

_...As sock-covered feet slid with little resistance against the smooth marble floors, laughter, surprisingly clear, rang out through the Pleasure's townhome. Sabina collapsed against Alex's chest as they tumbled to a halt. His heart pounded a strong and steady rhythm against her ear. They struggled to their feet. Brown eyes met blue. A kind hand, calloused and scarred by an unspeakable past reached reached down. A smaller hand, delicately defined and smudged with charcoal and soap suds took it. They stood. A rough hand brushed away a black curl that was plastered to a freckled cheek. _

_"What happened to doing the dishes?" Mr. Pleasure's reprimand caught them off guard... _

There is one thing that prevailed in the burning pride of Rider history that could be matched by the Pleasures.

Slowly and painfully, Sabina fought her aching limbs, denying their inability to move against the tacky concrete.

Stubbornness.

Stiff, bound legs contorted up towards useless arms, held in place by ropes and an overwhelming agony Sabina hesitated to identify.

The Pleasures were fighters.

_**Two weeks and four days earlier.**  
><em>

Sabina fought off an overwhelming sense of foreboding as she slid the final strap of her dress into place. Her hands shook as the feeling struck like lightning.

A dark chord reverberated as thunder through her chest and she started.

Then the familiar notes of her lullaby, as smooth as satin cloth, joined the melody.

She could feel Alex's heart in the notes as they poured from the keys, the vibrations filling the rooms and seeping through the walls and floor.

The melody seemed to pull the life out of the old building, the flood of sound washing light over the white-washed walls and streaming their glory in harmony with the creaking of the wooden stairs as they fell away beneath Sabina's bare feet.

She approached him from behind, watching his jacket shift over his arms as he threw himself into the music, Alex's back hunched over the keys as though they held him as enraptured as his audience. Sabina's eyes followed the flickering motion of his fingers, lithe and smooth then abruptly staccato and stilted.

As the music faded away and the house seemed to be drawn back into its repose, Sabina spoke.

"I thought you were getting ready."

Alex didn't turn around.

"I thought we're supposed to wear shoes."

Bare toes curled on the hard wood floor. Chipped blue nail polish reflected the room's dim light.

The blonde head shifted around to face her and Sabina caught the glint of humor in his eyes, noting that he had already donned his suit. Mostly.

"You see, Sab," Alex flippantly stated, standing. "Your very own James Bond." He laughed, nose crinkling but eyes still sharp, waiting.

She wondered if he saw the heat rise to her cheeks. The effect of his words, his presence, sometimes caught her by surprise.

He held out an arm. "Miss Moneypenny? You really should wear shoes."

"I don't mind much, Alex, and I doubt most people will," She ran an evaluating eye up his body, suppressing a snort at the strange dichotomy of the boxer shorts and the suit jacket. "...but you really should wear pants."

He blanched, the blood draining from his face, his expression grim. "Really?" Sarcasm laced his tone.

His facade faded. "Do you mind jeans? Suit pants are for funerals." His voice was heavy, dead. Dark eyes shifted away.

Sabina grasped his outstretched arm with the enthusiasm of a drowning man toward his rescuer. "Only if they're skinny," Sabina replied. Reaching across his broad chest with her free arm, she straightened his tie, suddenly all too aware of why he fled to the piano, to her lullaby. "I have a reputation to uphold after all."

_Laugh, girls and boys, when the troubles have past; reflect on the past and for more you have asked._

_Little Alex and his girl with her envious eyes, remember his fate and know he is mine._

_FATE never forgives, FATE never forgets._

_You cannot change who you are._

_You are mine._

The Pleasure's home protested against a sudden burst of wind.

_You are mine. _


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own Alex Rider. That is illegal and would be known as slavery. I don't own the series, I don't own the movie, and this is a work of fiction. That's why it's called FAN FICTION. Enjoy!

Slight change in style as Sabina herself develops

p.s. It might seem OC at points, but consider the time that has passed as well as the events that have taken place.

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><p><strong>What you've missed...<strong>

There is one thing that prevailed in the burning pride of Rider history that could be matched by the Pleasures.

Slowly and painfully, Sabina fought her aching limbs, denying their inability to move against the tacky concrete.

Stubbornness.

Stiff, bound legs contorted up towards useless arms, held in place by ropes and an overwhelming agony Sabina hesitated to identify.

The Pleasures were fighters.

_Laugh, girls and boys, when the troubles have past; reflect on the past and for more you have asked._

_Little Alex and his girl with her envious eyes, remember his fate and know he is mine._

_FATE never forgives, FATE never forgets._

_You cannot change who you are._

_You are mine._

The Pleasure's home protested against a sudden burst of wind.

_You are mine._

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><p><strong>And Now...<strong>

She was careful.

Oh, so careful!

..._His hand held hers, carefully guiding it as she swooped the charcoal down to grasp the gentle curve of the bird's wings as it floated on the salty sea air, the current holding it in an ever-widening gyre above the city's angular skyline that jutted out to breach the cerulean sky's domain. "Don't be afraid to make mistakes," his breath ruffled the wisps of hair over her ears. "Life is about making mistakes. Everything we do-" He redrew the line she had desperately tried to smudge away before he had stopped her in mid-motion. Sabina's gasp caught in her throat. "-helps build the bigger picture." The image of the bird seemed to fly off of the page, real and yet abstract- a flight of fantasy. "You have to change how you view the world. Make your own luck."... _

Her hands were delicate though stilted by pain...

"Make my own luck."

The pain was a river, sweeping her along, farther and farther. She gritted her teeth and swam upstream, the current pounding against her. _Again_ and _again_ the waves of agony, the beat of the blood in her ears a battle cry.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

She would fight for him, damn it. He was _hers_- he was a promise for tomorrow, for today.

A memory emerged from the clouded mind.

Yes.

A promise.

Inhale.

Exhale.

As her broken fingers fumbled for purchase on the rough rope that twisted and twined around her legs, the shattered remains of a girl reformed into something stronger, more deadly- a woman who sealed _his_ promise with blood. Her blood. And perhaps, _their_ blood.

Sabina Pleasure would not be late. She could not be too late. Not for him. Not this time.

The tide pulling her under gave rhythm to her suffering, an echo of the melody that served to restructure her soul.

Inhale.

The rush of pain.

Exhale.

The lullaby as her anthem, Sabina went to war with a fervor she had learned from Alex-the boy with the haunted eyes and the charcoal stained fingers, trying forever to cover the blood that soaked his trembling hands, the boy who fought with his heart and soul on the line to return to those he had left, the boy who had held on even as his own body failed him, dangling over a pit of vicious crocodiles, the boy who had watched himself die, watched the light leave the eyes that now haunted him every time he looked in the mirror, the boy she loved.

And damn anyone who tried to come between them.

Dried blood cracked as lips pulled back in a snarl. The ropes around her ankles gave way.

Pulling herself upright, Sabina felt consciousness threaten to flee.

She had to do this. For Alex.

And something told her that to find the truth- to remember- she had to find him first.

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><p><strong>Two week, two days earlier<strong>

Alex was gone.

He couldn't be.

Alex was gone.

The words, issued through her mother's sobs, echoed in Sabina's ears."I'm sorry, Sab. I heard it from the man, the man from you-know-who. Alex is dead. I'm so sorry."

He couldn't be.

Sabina forced her way past the two men in their crisp black suits and tell-tale bulges holding her mother away from the crowd of children wandering aimlessly about as they were herded past the flaming ruins of the school auditorium.

She pushed and jabbed her way through the milling suits, walking with a purpose, an intensity, that led none to deny her.

Her dress was ripped beyond repair and her eyes were wild.

She knew who she wanted to speak to.

"Hello, Mr. Byrne. I'd like to volunteer my services."

_You wanted to be part of his life?_

_ Well then welcome to his fate, child. _

_ Welcome to his strife._

_ You'll need your own luck with what's ahead of you._

_Try, try, go ahead. _

_Don't give up._

_Sleep's for the dead._

There would have been a chance she wouldn't have been involved. If Joe Byrne hadn't happened to be in San Francisco, if Sabina hadn't recognized him from Alex's sketch, if Sabina had turned slightly to the right, if the wind had been two miles per hour stronger on Byrne's flight over...

_But I make your own luck. _

And for some strange reason Joe Byrne found himself saying yes.


End file.
